Weird dreams are my thing. I've had some real doozies over the years. (Especially during my pregnancies.) Some are forgotten about before my feet hit the floor in the morning. Some stick with me for days. In high school, I had a very racy dream about a less-than-sexy teacher. I couldn't look him in the eye for weeks. Recently, I had a sticks-with-me kind of dream. It was waaaaaay bizarre.
Apparently, this dream took place about 16 years ago, because my dad was still alive and my husband and children were nowhere to be found. I was getting ready for a wedding....I was the bride. But I didn't know the groom's name. Many of my high school friends were there. I didn't want to look like a complete ass, so I launched a sneaky investigation to find out this dude's name from one of my friends. Mission accomplished.
Side note:
The "dream" groom was no one I've ever met. He is a real-life stranger. Wouldn't you think the "dream" groom would have been a classmate, old friend, former boyfriend, acquaintance, my dentist, my gynecologist, someone I saw on TV once, or something? I told you this was weird.
Now I had NO intention of marrying Mystery Groom, so I went to have a little chat with him. While we were chatting, I discovered that he was very sweet and was genuinely sad that we wouldn't be getting hitched, which made me briefly reconsider because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. (!!!)
Side note #2:
Am I really THAT easily swayed by my desire to please?! Yeesh. There may be some intense psycho-analysis in my future.
Then came the REALLY strange part. Someone brought 2 little kids into the room and Mystery Groom informed me that the oldest one (5 years old or so) was mine. WHAT?! And the 6-month-old baby was someone else's, but he had custody. WHAT?!
Side note #3:
So I slept with a guy, spaced out his name, got pregnant, carried his offspring, handed him the child, and then FORGOT that I had a baby?! OMG. So in my dreams, I'm half brain-dead AND a slut. Fantastic.
The dream continued. Mystery Groom and I became fast friends.....we held hands and went to tell our families and guests that we would not be getting married. And my dad was mad at me for not going through with the wedding! So he refused to speak to me.
End of dream.
Oy vey.
I TOLD YOU THIS WAS WEIRD.
Can someone get me the name and number of a reputable psychiatrist?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
My baby girl is home today....she's all pukey and poopy, so I'm playing nursemaid. I figured this would be a good time to check in with my blog. I miss writing, but it's been very hard to find the time now that I'm working. To the handful of people who have inquired about my posts....thank you for remaining interested. Happy New Year, my peeps!
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Monday, August 8, 2011
I'll share my womb with you, but NOT my beverage
Kids are kinda gross.
Harsh and uncalled for, you say?
Oh come ON. Have you ever spent a day in the presence of a drooling, teething, boogie-nosed toddler? How about the dirt-encrusted fingernails? Or the hand that was just busy digging for gold? Or the other hand that was OMG STOP TOUCHING THE DOG'S BUTT!
Call me crazy, but boogies, drool, dirt, and what-are-you-digging-for-in-that-diaper!? are not suitable additives for a beverage. High fructose corn syrup? Yes. Boogies? No. That's how I roll.
Gross.
And so.....I refuse to share drinks with my kids.
I don't think this makes me a bad person. If you disagree with me, try this nifty little experiment:
Grab the nearest 3-year-old and hand him an Oreo cookie. Watch him go to town on that cookie.....yum yum yummy! Yep...don't forget the piece you dropped on the floor. 5 second rule, ya know!
After he's done with the cookie, it's quite likely that he'll be thirsty....so you'll hand him your nice, clean, refreshing glass of water. And you'll watch as half of that Oreo cookie (along with a gallon of saliva) gets backwashed into your glass.
If you're like me, you'll be watching in abject horror and frantically fighting off your gag reflex. (Have I mentioned how very squeamish I am?)
If you're Parent of the Year (or the proud owner of an iron stomach), you'll grab that glass and take a swig. (Just the mental image is making me a bit woozy. Maybe I should lie down.)
The Husband and I are on opposite sides of the fence with this issue. He'll eat or drink anything....regardless of the damage that has been done. I, on the other hand, won't eat any piece of food that might have been manhandled by a little one. I like my beverages free of shrapnel and my food free of toddler spit.
Yes, I understand this will take me out of the running for 2011 Parent of the Year. I've made my peace with it. There's always 2012.
What have YOU done lately that will knock you off the POTY list?
Harsh and uncalled for, you say?
Oh come ON. Have you ever spent a day in the presence of a drooling, teething, boogie-nosed toddler? How about the dirt-encrusted fingernails? Or the hand that was just busy digging for gold? Or the other hand that was OMG STOP TOUCHING THE DOG'S BUTT!
Call me crazy, but boogies, drool, dirt, and what-are-you-digging-for-in-that-diaper!? are not suitable additives for a beverage. High fructose corn syrup? Yes. Boogies? No. That's how I roll.
Exhibit A:
Gross.
And so.....I refuse to share drinks with my kids.
I don't think this makes me a bad person. If you disagree with me, try this nifty little experiment:
Grab the nearest 3-year-old and hand him an Oreo cookie. Watch him go to town on that cookie.....yum yum yummy! Yep...don't forget the piece you dropped on the floor. 5 second rule, ya know!
After he's done with the cookie, it's quite likely that he'll be thirsty....so you'll hand him your nice, clean, refreshing glass of water. And you'll watch as half of that Oreo cookie (along with a gallon of saliva) gets backwashed into your glass.
If you're like me, you'll be watching in abject horror and frantically fighting off your gag reflex. (Have I mentioned how very squeamish I am?)
If you're Parent of the Year (or the proud owner of an iron stomach), you'll grab that glass and take a swig. (Just the mental image is making me a bit woozy. Maybe I should lie down.)
The Husband and I are on opposite sides of the fence with this issue. He'll eat or drink anything....regardless of the damage that has been done. I, on the other hand, won't eat any piece of food that might have been manhandled by a little one. I like my beverages free of shrapnel and my food free of toddler spit.
Yes, I understand this will take me out of the running for 2011 Parent of the Year. I've made my peace with it. There's always 2012.
What have YOU done lately that will knock you off the POTY list?
Friday, August 5, 2011
Excuses....excuses......
Reasons why I haven't blogged since February:
1 husband
4 kids
2 dogs
1 guinea pig
2 part-time jobs
1 business that I'm trying to get off the ground
A third part-time job that I just heard about and am hoping I can get
1 house that is FOREVER messy
Meals that won't cook themselves
Laundry that won't wash, dry, or fold itself
Whew.
I sure do miss you all, though.
When I last checked in here, we had only one dog.....Charlie. We had discussed, on and off, the idea of adopting another dog. The Husband was far less thrilled about the idea than the rest of us. I kept thinking about it......I even ran it by a few other people to see if they had any advice. Apparently, I had mentioned it to our babysitter's mother. Miss JP, our sitter, stopped by our house one day and told me about a co-worker of hers who is in the midst of a divorce. The husband/ex-husband doesn't want a dog and the wife/ex-wife is moving to a small apartment and is unable to keep the dog.
"Are you interested?"
"Yes!"
"Should I give her your number?"
"Yes!"
Only after Miss JP left did I realize that I hadn't even consulted with Nick about it. Oops.
We got "Beauty" on a Friday and told the kids that we were babysitting her for the weekend. I was NOT about to tell them we were keeping her and then find out that she doesn't work well here. (If you're a parent, you probably understand that kids operate best if they're kept in the dark about such matters.)
Beauty is a 5 year old golden retriever who sheds large tumbleweeds of hair every day. The weekend went very well simply because she's quite possibly the most laid-back dog I've ever met. She puts Charlie in his place when necessary yet she eagerly flops on the floor for belly rubs from the kids. It took very little time for us to fall in love with her. On Sunday morning, we told the kids that she would get to stay with us. As expected, they were ecstatic.
After the adoption was "official", there were a couple of matters to attend to. Item #1? Change her name. She is now known as Molly. Beauty was a cute name, but totally not our style. We like people names for our pets. Page, Fiona, Charlie, Molly. (If she'd been a boy, the name would have been Walter.)
Item #2? See if there was anything at the pet store that would alleviate some of her shedding. We got a brush, a comb, and a de-tangling spray. Just combing her has made a huge difference. Plus, she looooooves being brushed out. She freezes in position and her eyelids droop as if she's just found doggy paradise. The gray hairs around her mouth and nose tell you that she's certainly not a puppy. For that, I am thankful. This house can only handle one frisky, misbehaving puppy at a time, thankyouverymuch.
You can be sure that I'll have some pictures up here very soon. However, with my track record, "very soon" is a pretty loose term. Could be one week....could be 3 months.
My point is this: Yes, you will see pictures. But I wouldn't suggest holding your breath until they show up.
Peace out, people.
1 husband
4 kids
2 dogs
1 guinea pig
2 part-time jobs
1 business that I'm trying to get off the ground
A third part-time job that I just heard about and am hoping I can get
1 house that is FOREVER messy
Meals that won't cook themselves
Laundry that won't wash, dry, or fold itself
Whew.
I sure do miss you all, though.
When I last checked in here, we had only one dog.....Charlie. We had discussed, on and off, the idea of adopting another dog. The Husband was far less thrilled about the idea than the rest of us. I kept thinking about it......I even ran it by a few other people to see if they had any advice. Apparently, I had mentioned it to our babysitter's mother. Miss JP, our sitter, stopped by our house one day and told me about a co-worker of hers who is in the midst of a divorce. The husband/ex-husband doesn't want a dog and the wife/ex-wife is moving to a small apartment and is unable to keep the dog.
"Are you interested?"
"Yes!"
"Should I give her your number?"
"Yes!"
Only after Miss JP left did I realize that I hadn't even consulted with Nick about it. Oops.
We got "Beauty" on a Friday and told the kids that we were babysitting her for the weekend. I was NOT about to tell them we were keeping her and then find out that she doesn't work well here. (If you're a parent, you probably understand that kids operate best if they're kept in the dark about such matters.)
Beauty is a 5 year old golden retriever who sheds large tumbleweeds of hair every day. The weekend went very well simply because she's quite possibly the most laid-back dog I've ever met. She puts Charlie in his place when necessary yet she eagerly flops on the floor for belly rubs from the kids. It took very little time for us to fall in love with her. On Sunday morning, we told the kids that she would get to stay with us. As expected, they were ecstatic.
After the adoption was "official", there were a couple of matters to attend to. Item #1? Change her name. She is now known as Molly. Beauty was a cute name, but totally not our style. We like people names for our pets. Page, Fiona, Charlie, Molly. (If she'd been a boy, the name would have been Walter.)
Item #2? See if there was anything at the pet store that would alleviate some of her shedding. We got a brush, a comb, and a de-tangling spray. Just combing her has made a huge difference. Plus, she looooooves being brushed out. She freezes in position and her eyelids droop as if she's just found doggy paradise. The gray hairs around her mouth and nose tell you that she's certainly not a puppy. For that, I am thankful. This house can only handle one frisky, misbehaving puppy at a time, thankyouverymuch.
You can be sure that I'll have some pictures up here very soon. However, with my track record, "very soon" is a pretty loose term. Could be one week....could be 3 months.
My point is this: Yes, you will see pictures. But I wouldn't suggest holding your breath until they show up.
Peace out, people.
Friday, February 25, 2011
My mascara contains WHAT?!?!
Nick, the boys, and I were all sitting around watching tv a few weeks ago. The show that we couldn't tear our eyes from? "Billy the Exterminator" on A&E. It's reality tv at its finest. Billy has a haircut that can only be described as mullet-meets-woodchipper. The show follows him and his vermin-killing family. They all wear black and appear to be 100% dedicated to ridding the world of icky things.
Hey! Maybe that should be their company tag line!
Vexcon....We take care of the icky things.
(There's a good reason why I'm not in marketing.)
Anyway. In this particular fun-filled episode, some poor woman had an attic full of bats. Hundreds of them. Her whole house stunk from the, uh, guano. (That's poo, if you're not familiar.) So Billy went into the attic to assess the situation....all while talking about how awful the bat droppings are. They're smelly and full of disease and NASTY.
Then Billy said that bat poo is an ingredient in mascara.
Ya know.....the stuff I was wearing AT THAT VERY MOMENT. ON MY EYELASHES. OMG.
Turns out, this is an urban legend. But STILL. Doesn't it sorta highlight how little we know about our cosmetics? I'm of the "Ignorance Is Bliss" school of thought here. Do I really want to know if there's toad placenta in my lipstick?
So while I was doing the dishes yesterday and thinking about this, I had an epiphany. If it were true, could you imagine how the conversation went among the lab techs who were working on this formula?
Tech #1 - UGH! I'm so frustrated. I've tried EVERYTHING to get this mascara recipe correct!
Tech #2 - Maybe I can help. What have you tried so far?
Tech #1 - I've tried armadillo urine, ferret saliva, border collie ear wax, kangaroo colon, frog warts, maine coon cat semen, pitbull prostate, Texas longhorn umbilical cord, chimpanzee testicles, and guinea pig placenta. But I STILL can't get this right! It's driving me batshit crazy!
Tech #2 - Well, maybe you could try.......
Tech #1 - WAIT A MINUTE! I never tried bat shit!
Tech #2 - Gross.
Tech #1 - Shut up and find me some guano.
Hey! Maybe that should be their company tag line!
Vexcon....We take care of the icky things.
(There's a good reason why I'm not in marketing.)
Anyway. In this particular fun-filled episode, some poor woman had an attic full of bats. Hundreds of them. Her whole house stunk from the, uh, guano. (That's poo, if you're not familiar.) So Billy went into the attic to assess the situation....all while talking about how awful the bat droppings are. They're smelly and full of disease and NASTY.
Then Billy said that bat poo is an ingredient in mascara.
Ya know.....the stuff I was wearing AT THAT VERY MOMENT. ON MY EYELASHES. OMG.
Turns out, this is an urban legend. But STILL. Doesn't it sorta highlight how little we know about our cosmetics? I'm of the "Ignorance Is Bliss" school of thought here. Do I really want to know if there's toad placenta in my lipstick?
So while I was doing the dishes yesterday and thinking about this, I had an epiphany. If it were true, could you imagine how the conversation went among the lab techs who were working on this formula?
Tech #1 - UGH! I'm so frustrated. I've tried EVERYTHING to get this mascara recipe correct!
Tech #2 - Maybe I can help. What have you tried so far?
Tech #1 - I've tried armadillo urine, ferret saliva, border collie ear wax, kangaroo colon, frog warts, maine coon cat semen, pitbull prostate, Texas longhorn umbilical cord, chimpanzee testicles, and guinea pig placenta. But I STILL can't get this right! It's driving me batshit crazy!
Tech #2 - Well, maybe you could try.......
Tech #1 - WAIT A MINUTE! I never tried bat shit!
Tech #2 - Gross.
Tech #1 - Shut up and find me some guano.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
The truest spirit of Christmas....
I'd love to be all original and witty today, but it appears that my brain is on vacation. You're likely to see it on an upcoming "Brains Gone Wild" video....topless, drunk, and holding a margarita. I just hope it doesn't get arrested.
I digress.
Until my brain gets itself back to work, I'm linking you to another blog with a post that I'm begging you to read. Really. Especially if you're in one of those "the world is full of selfish, heartless slobs who wouldn't know kindness if it bit them on the butt" kind of moods. Please, please, please click over and read this amazing post. You won't be sorry. You'll be inspired.
Happy New Year, friends and family!
I digress.
Until my brain gets itself back to work, I'm linking you to another blog with a post that I'm begging you to read. Really. Especially if you're in one of those "the world is full of selfish, heartless slobs who wouldn't know kindness if it bit them on the butt" kind of moods. Please, please, please click over and read this amazing post. You won't be sorry. You'll be inspired.
Happy New Year, friends and family!
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Tis the season to be whiny...fa la la
Christmas is one of my favorite times of the year...the kids get so excited about every little thing and I love to see the neighborhood all lit up. Even the cold weather doesn't kill my joy to the world. There's really only one thing that gets my shorts in a wad every December. No, it's not fruitcake and garishly decorated sweaters. It's something far more ridiculous and sinister.
Right around this time, every year, the I WANT YOU TO SAY MERRY CHRISTMAS...NOT HAPPY HOLIDAYS whiners come out of the woodwork. And for some reason, I'm shocked by it every. single. year. I guess I expect these people to find better things to complain about...sadly, they never do.
(I'm quite sure I'll offend someone with this post. As luck would have it, I don't care. The whole thing is pathetic. So here goes.....)
An open memo to Christmas Whiners:
Grow up and find a different cause to dedicate your energy to.
First and foremost, lets take a look-see at the calendar.....What do you find? LOTS OF HOLIDAYS. In just 3 months, we have Columbus Day, Halloween, Veterans Day, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas, and New Years. So from a purely practical standpoint, "Happy Holidays" is a handy way to cover the bases, no?
Secondly, I don't remember where it's written that Christmas-celebrating persons have dibs on December. Believe it or not, there are oodles of people who celebrate something besides Christmas. *GASP* Shocking, I know. Demanding "Merry Christmas" smacks of self-importance and an overly-inflated sense of entitlement.
Third? Grow up.
Fourth? No, really. GROW UP. Someone wished you Happy Holidays. Boo hoo. Put on your big girl pants (or big boy pants) and get on with your life.
Fifth.....I'm not Jewish. But I have been wished a Happy Passover and a Happy New Year and a Happy Hanukkah on several occasions. Do you know what I did? Kick them in the shins and run away crying? No. I smiled. And I said, "Thanks! Same to you!" Do you know why? Because THEY WERE BEING POLITE AND FRIENDLY and I was being polite and friendly IN RETURN. It's a novel concept, I agree.
And one last thing....the most important point of them all: If you're one of the Christmas Whiners, then you should be on your knees, every single morning, thanking your lucky stars that this is the biggest issue you're facing in life. You're not battling foreclosure, job loss, illness, divorce, death? Then you are blessed. I can guarantee there are millions of people who only WISH they had problems this petty.
So lets all use 2011 to mature our wee li'l brains, okay? Lets expand our horizons and embrace the fact that we are a diverse population and we are free to celebrate (or not celebrate) anything we wish.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS, MY PEEPS!
Right around this time, every year, the I WANT YOU TO SAY MERRY CHRISTMAS...NOT HAPPY HOLIDAYS whiners come out of the woodwork. And for some reason, I'm shocked by it every. single. year. I guess I expect these people to find better things to complain about...sadly, they never do.
(I'm quite sure I'll offend someone with this post. As luck would have it, I don't care. The whole thing is pathetic. So here goes.....)
An open memo to Christmas Whiners:
Grow up and find a different cause to dedicate your energy to.
First and foremost, lets take a look-see at the calendar.....What do you find? LOTS OF HOLIDAYS. In just 3 months, we have Columbus Day, Halloween, Veterans Day, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas, and New Years. So from a purely practical standpoint, "Happy Holidays" is a handy way to cover the bases, no?
Secondly, I don't remember where it's written that Christmas-celebrating persons have dibs on December. Believe it or not, there are oodles of people who celebrate something besides Christmas. *GASP* Shocking, I know. Demanding "Merry Christmas" smacks of self-importance and an overly-inflated sense of entitlement.
Third? Grow up.
Fourth? No, really. GROW UP. Someone wished you Happy Holidays. Boo hoo. Put on your big girl pants (or big boy pants) and get on with your life.
Fifth.....I'm not Jewish. But I have been wished a Happy Passover and a Happy New Year and a Happy Hanukkah on several occasions. Do you know what I did? Kick them in the shins and run away crying? No. I smiled. And I said, "Thanks! Same to you!" Do you know why? Because THEY WERE BEING POLITE AND FRIENDLY and I was being polite and friendly IN RETURN. It's a novel concept, I agree.
And one last thing....the most important point of them all: If you're one of the Christmas Whiners, then you should be on your knees, every single morning, thanking your lucky stars that this is the biggest issue you're facing in life. You're not battling foreclosure, job loss, illness, divorce, death? Then you are blessed. I can guarantee there are millions of people who only WISH they had problems this petty.
So lets all use 2011 to mature our wee li'l brains, okay? Lets expand our horizons and embrace the fact that we are a diverse population and we are free to celebrate (or not celebrate) anything we wish.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS, MY PEEPS!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Probably....
She's been his mother for just 14 years.
Not so long ago, she probably rubbed her round belly and said, "I can't wait to meet you, my baby boy." Maybe she dreamed of what he would look like, but I bet she never guessed he'd have such beautiful dimples.
Not so long ago, she probably cried when the doctors placed him...wailing and wet...in her arms and said, "It's a boy!" Maybe she counted his fingers and kissed his toes and quietly said a prayer of thanks for his safe delivery.
Not so long ago, she probably bit her nails nervously as she watched him learn to walk. She probably moved anything and everything that might cause him harm. Maybe she flinched when he stumbled and fell, but she stayed in her seat....knowing that he had to learn by trial and error.
Not so long ago, when he had a nasty cold, she probably stood over him one night to be sure that he was sleeping soundly. Maybe she touched his head to see if the fever had subsided.
Not so long ago, she probably slapped her forehead and asked, "How can those pants be too small already?! I just bought them last month!" Maybe she wondered if his growth spurts could slow down just a little bit because it's so expensive to buy new clothes every month!
Not so long ago, she probably kissed his knee to make it "all better" and offered a band-aid to cover the fresh boo-boo. Maybe she dried his tears with the extra tissue that every Mom carries in her pocket.
Not so long ago, she probably rubbed his back while a stomach virus wreaked it's havoc. Maybe she repeatedly offered him something bland to eat, in the hopes that he would finally be able to hold it down. And maybe she held her nose and gritted her teeth in frustration as she washed the 5th set of barf-covered sheets in one day.
Not so long ago, she probably softly touched his dimples and told him, "You'll always be my baby." Maybe he rolled his eyes and heaved an embarrassed sigh.
Not so long ago, the doctors said, "It's cancer." Maybe she kept up a brave face for him that day...and maybe she sobbed and screamed and cursed into her pillow that night while her heart broke in half.
And........someday soon, she'll probably rub his back when the chemo causes his stomach to lurch. She'll probably kiss his hand to make it "all better" after the IV has been put in. She'll probably hold a cool washcloth to his forehead because she wants to do something...ANYTHING...to make him feel better. She'll probably watch him sleep and beg for the medications to do their job. Maybe she'll secretly count how many bites of food he eats and be ecstatic to discover that he took in 3 more bites than yesterday. Maybe she'll tell her husband, "I promise to never get upset when he outgrows his clothes because it only means that he's healthy and growing and strong." Maybe she'll find love, friendship, and support in unexpected places. Maybe her strong faith will be tested as she angrily asks, "Why?!"
Hopefully, someday soon, the doctors will say, "It's in remission." Maybe she'll bite her nails nervously when he's finally well enough to return to school, but she'll say nothing because she is overjoyed that this day finally arrived. And before he leaves the house, maybe she'll softly touch his dimples and say, "Whether you're 14 or 34 or 64, you'll always be my baby."
* * * * * * * * * *
If you're a person who believes in prayer, there is a family who could use your help. If you believe in good vibes, please send them. If you want to cross your fingers and think good, healing thoughts...go right ahead. They need all of it. They're now part of a club that no parent should ever have to be in.
Not so long ago, she probably rubbed her round belly and said, "I can't wait to meet you, my baby boy." Maybe she dreamed of what he would look like, but I bet she never guessed he'd have such beautiful dimples.
Not so long ago, she probably cried when the doctors placed him...wailing and wet...in her arms and said, "It's a boy!" Maybe she counted his fingers and kissed his toes and quietly said a prayer of thanks for his safe delivery.
Not so long ago, she probably bit her nails nervously as she watched him learn to walk. She probably moved anything and everything that might cause him harm. Maybe she flinched when he stumbled and fell, but she stayed in her seat....knowing that he had to learn by trial and error.
Not so long ago, when he had a nasty cold, she probably stood over him one night to be sure that he was sleeping soundly. Maybe she touched his head to see if the fever had subsided.
Not so long ago, she probably slapped her forehead and asked, "How can those pants be too small already?! I just bought them last month!" Maybe she wondered if his growth spurts could slow down just a little bit because it's so expensive to buy new clothes every month!
Not so long ago, she probably kissed his knee to make it "all better" and offered a band-aid to cover the fresh boo-boo. Maybe she dried his tears with the extra tissue that every Mom carries in her pocket.
Not so long ago, she probably rubbed his back while a stomach virus wreaked it's havoc. Maybe she repeatedly offered him something bland to eat, in the hopes that he would finally be able to hold it down. And maybe she held her nose and gritted her teeth in frustration as she washed the 5th set of barf-covered sheets in one day.
Not so long ago, she probably softly touched his dimples and told him, "You'll always be my baby." Maybe he rolled his eyes and heaved an embarrassed sigh.
Not so long ago, the doctors said, "It's cancer." Maybe she kept up a brave face for him that day...and maybe she sobbed and screamed and cursed into her pillow that night while her heart broke in half.
And........someday soon, she'll probably rub his back when the chemo causes his stomach to lurch. She'll probably kiss his hand to make it "all better" after the IV has been put in. She'll probably hold a cool washcloth to his forehead because she wants to do something...ANYTHING...to make him feel better. She'll probably watch him sleep and beg for the medications to do their job. Maybe she'll secretly count how many bites of food he eats and be ecstatic to discover that he took in 3 more bites than yesterday. Maybe she'll tell her husband, "I promise to never get upset when he outgrows his clothes because it only means that he's healthy and growing and strong." Maybe she'll find love, friendship, and support in unexpected places. Maybe her strong faith will be tested as she angrily asks, "Why?!"
Hopefully, someday soon, the doctors will say, "It's in remission." Maybe she'll bite her nails nervously when he's finally well enough to return to school, but she'll say nothing because she is overjoyed that this day finally arrived. And before he leaves the house, maybe she'll softly touch his dimples and say, "Whether you're 14 or 34 or 64, you'll always be my baby."
* * * * * * * * * *
If you're a person who believes in prayer, there is a family who could use your help. If you believe in good vibes, please send them. If you want to cross your fingers and think good, healing thoughts...go right ahead. They need all of it. They're now part of a club that no parent should ever have to be in.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
